To India, Away!
by Firefly Phoenix
Summary: After the recent episode of black market organ trade, Amita plans to go on a trip with her grandmother. However, she's been having a whole lot of thoughts about a certain professor lately, and they seem to be getting in the way. Charlie & Amita Rom.
1. Sketches and Letters to You

**To India, Away! - A Numb3rs Fan Fiction Attempt**

**Disclaimer: Alas, _Numb3rs_ and all that is affilated with it is, without a single doubt, not mine. Nor do I care, because it seems like a huge responsibility. I just attempt it. (See title above for proof.)**

Amita yawned tiredly, rubbing her eyes and slightly smudging the lightly dusted makeup that covered her eyelids. Thinking was rather a difficult concept to begin to approach, but one idea floated sluggishly to her mind: _'I know I wanted to go to India, but was a seven AM flight really the best departure time? I didn't sleep at all last night, woke at dawn, and all these security measures…' _

"Amita, you'd best open your eyes and start walking! You're next to go through the screening." Amita's grandmother gave a little shove on the small of Amita's back, pushing her forward in the short line of people at the airport that morning. Her head jolted upwards, eyes opening wide to the bright white lights of the terminal, and she shuffled forwards. Slipping off her shoes, Amita felt the chill of the icy tile floor rise up through her feet, and she dumped her sandals along with her keys and other things into a bucket to be screened. Shuffling faster to get away from the cold ground and get her sandals back, she went through the metal detector without a glance behind her, realizing too late she had coins in her pocket.

Shrill alarms went off seconds later, the peal of the signal causing a thudding ache in Amita's head as her inner ear rang painfully. _'Wonderful. Superb. Just what I need before a flight across an ocean.'_

"Ma'am, we're going to have to ask you to stop." A security officer stepped up to her, stopping her from walking any further. Amita's toes curled away from the tile, and she sighed inwardly. _'This. Floor. So. Cold. It's. Just. Too. Early. Stupid money getting in the way.'_ She lifted her arms and spread her legs so the detecting stick in the officer's hand could pinpoint the problem.

"Uh, alright. It's just some change I left a few days ago in my pocket, I believe. I'm really sorry." And right on cue, the small beeping of the stick went off as it passed over Amita's front pocket. Emptying it out to prove her point, she shrugged her shoulders, offered another apology and proceeded forward, grabbing her things and sitting on a chair on the others side.

As she slipped her sandals back on and reached for a jacket she had stuffed in her carry-on bag, she again though groggily. _'Oh how I wish for something to make me warm. Like my bed. Or a cup of tea. Or maybe Charlie's arms. Wait – what?' _Her thoughts were interrupted however, when her grandmother walked up.

Frowning, the older lady muttered, "Tsk, tsk Amita. Only five minutes into our adventure and you're already finding yourself in trouble. No good will come of that, my dear." A wry smile crossed her face, and scooping up her pack, she said louder, "Now which direction should we be headed? This entire place is so confusing… Ah, there! Terminal C it is."

She started off in a jaunty little walk, the material of her bright sari catching a few people's eye, whereas Amita's regular faded jeans and bland top blended into the norm of practically every person passing through that wing of the airport.

While her grandmother chatted gaily about their family over in India, Amita stayed quiet and contemplative, simply listening respectfully or nodding her head when appropriate. However, after about five minutes of paying very close attention, she found her mind blissfully wandering off and refusing to concentrate on anything that came out of her grandmother's mouth. While her eyes were trained solely on the diminutive woman, she couldn't for the life of her stop her brain from thinking of two very important subjects in her life: numbers, and of all the crazy things, Charlie. They had gotten all the way to their stop, and Amita's grandmother broke off to talk with the woman behind the counter to double check their departure schedule. Finding a few empty seats right by the boarding dock, Amita settled down and continued to let her mind have free reign over her.

She didn't know exactly why, but whenever she let her mind get away from her, one of the few places it ran away to were thoughts of Charlie. Memories with Charlie, problems with Charlie, moments with Charlie, dreams with Charlie… the list went on. And not one of them was bad. Perhaps it was a bit strained at times, a smidgen tense, but never a bad thought of Charlie. Of course, it was pretty obvious to anyone their friendship was becoming more than just an old student to teacher bond, even to Amita and Charlie themselves. They had worked on a lot of things together, and their passions both lay in one concrete world of numbers and equations. They had an innate, multi-layered connection. The only thing to consider was, could such a connection survive a relationship?

Amita didn't know the answer, nor did she know of Charlie's feelings. The entire affair (no, pun _not_ intended) was as up in the air as anything. But the most recent thought of Charlie was the most confusing of all. It was that little escapade in Charlie's office. Well, escapade was the wrong word, really. She just leapt up and kissed the man, then ran right out of the room like a schoolgirl. What she did still surprised her.

But still, thoughts of Charlie were never bad, and this one was just like all the others. Well, perhaps she could qualify it as being just a little bit better. Amita smiled inwardly at the memory. Charlie had just stood there, speechless as could be afterwards, not even knowing what he had done to merit such a response. Amita was still a bit unsure as to the reason as well.

That had occurred weeks ago, however, and Amita hadn't seen much of Charlie since that last case they had worked with Don. She was much too busy working on studying the Indian culture and finding a place for the two girls, Santi and her sister, to stay while they went back to school. She felt a strange attachment to them, especially after their entire ordeal, and offered to help them any way that she could. She had even gone so far as to set them up interviews around town to help them find a job.

Yet all this dedication had severely cut down her time to just spend quality time with the professor she most liked to be around. Amita was still slightly scarred from all that she had learned about the black market organ trade, and she hesitated talking to anyone about it. When Spring Break had come around, she had already planned on leaving with her grandmother, and threw her whole self into making sure all the plans were ready and foolproof. The opportune moment to speak with Charlie had successfully flown right out the window, in her case. Even her goodbyes were hurried and cut short the night before; her grandmother had wanted her to get a full night's sleep and double check all their packing just to be sure everything was in order. By the time she had everything checked over, and checked over again, she barely had a moment to just hug everyone quickly and get ready for bed before she felt like falling over in exhaustion.

Now, here she was, sitting tired as could be in Terminal C of the Los Angeles Airport, with an hour to while away before departure. What was she to do now? Deciding she would surprise her grandmother, she snuck out her camera and angled it appropriately. With a flash, she had the perfect shot – the first photograph of a soon to be wild adventure all the way in the Middle East.

Figuring she had plenty of time to spare, she got up from her seat and wandered over to the window, gazing out at the huge machines, one of which would take them to their destination. She knew it wasn't to be a straight shot over the ocean or anything – that sort of trip would be ridiculously long – but she wondered what she would do those many hours upon such a vehicle. There would be in-flight entertainment and such, but would that keep her attention long enough? Thankfully, she had a writer's pad to keep her company, in case her grandmother fell asleep or she had the urge to write down an equation. Feeling a tap upon her shoulder, she turned around.

A tall man in his late twenties or so was behind her, also gazing at the airplanes outside the huge windows. "Would you care to get a cup of coffee with me? You looked rather alone." He smiled, and Amita had another flitting thought of Charlie dash across her mind. She blushed a little at the affect he had upon her.

"Oh, well, I'm really with my grandmother for this trip, but a cup of coffee would be nice."

"That sounds excellent; invite her along as well, if you wish." Amita nodded, gracious for this man's kindness. She definitely needed someone to push to an early morning caffeine dose upon her. Striding over to where her grandmother sat, she asked her if she would like to come along. Politely declining, the elderly lady insisted she would wait for the plane to arrive. Amita found it endearing how dedicated her grandmother was; she was not about to let one miniscule detail of the trip slip away from her grasp.

With about forty-five minutes until her scheduled departure, Amita and the man, who introduced himself as Michael, sat down at a small table with two steaming cups and muffins. They began to talk, just thankful to have someone their age around to spend the time with as they waited to be called to their flight. After another fifteen minutes or so they were really enjoying the other's company.

"How is your tea?" Michael asked, as he watched Amita stir in another spoonful of honey and lick the still-sweet spoon, almost greedily.

"It's delicious. And your coffee?" She replied thoughtfully.

"The same. I'm assuming your going to India, am I correct?"

"Yes, how could you tell?"

"Your grandmother is wearing a sari and you are wearing a shirt with a design of the _Taj Mahal_ on it." He said; a smile on his face.

"Oh, I had forgotten," Amita laughed, "I find it's still rather early in the morning for me."

"It's nearly 6:30!"

"Anything before seven is practically torture."

"You seem to be enjoying myself, though."

"I must say, you are excellent company."

"Well thank you!" He said, obviously surprised at the compliment.

"Don't sound so shocked, it's true! By the way, where are you going?"

"Oh, I'm headed for –" But his reply was cut off as the speakers sounded the number of a flight boarding for Hawai'i. "Well, that's me!"

"Hawai'i! How exciting."

"India is sure to be just as amazing. I went there once, as a child, when my father moved a lot for his company. Now I'm just visiting old family throughout the states as a way to stay connected." As he said this, he picked up his half empty cup and slung his jacked over his shoulder, starting to walk away towards his carry-on bags and his boarding dock, pulling his pass out of his pocket as well.

"Well, have a good time!" she called to him.

"You as well!" With that, and a short wave of hand, he disappeared down the long hallway to a waiting plane.

Amita had also got up out of her seat at the table in the airport café, grasping onto the warmth of her tea, and after she waved back, walked over to her grandmother, who was now supposedly reading a book, but keeping a very close eye on both the attendant behind the counter and Amita.

"Was he nice?"

"Very."

"I am glad you are finally spending some time with people suitable."

"People suitable for what?" As soon as Amita asked, she already knew. _'Not again…First from Mother, now from you?'_

"Marriage, of course! You know most of your cousins your age in India are already on their way to making families for themselves." She said, sounding very disappointed that Amita wasn't dating, let alone engaged or married.

"Grandma, I'm just not ready yet! I've just gotten out of all that school work, and now that I'm working with all the professors I just can't find time for dating and that sort of thing."

"Oh, making up excuses for your Grandmother eh? I saw that one boy last night. He looked just fine to me."

"Who?" Amita tried to act dumb.

"You know him, Amita! Don't play smart with me. Younger boy, curly brown hair, he smelled like chalk dust and attic."

"Charlie? He does smell like chalk dust, doesn't he…? Oh, and he works in his garage, not his attic."

"Just the same, anyways. Now, how come you're not talking with him? He's smart, good looking, and you went to school with him."

"Grandma! I was _taught_ by him, there's a rather large difference, wouldn't you say? Not to mention that…" Amita drifted off, one of the uncomfortable memories of Charlie coming to her head – that disastrous dinner they had once.

"Oh, so you have been out with him before, haven't you? I knew it. Well, I have to say, you'd make an excellent couple. I saw it in both your eyes. And grandmothers know these sorts of things."

With that, she got up and walked over to the desk once more, much to the displeasure of the attendant, who looked almost as tired as Amita felt. Thankfully, they only had a few more minutes before they were to board.

Gathering their things, Amita put everything back into the bags, including her notepad, pencils, and camera which she had out earlier. Moments later, after finishing up her tea, and splitting the rest of her muffin with her grandmother, their flight was called over the loudspeaker, even though they were close enough to hear the woman say it. A flurry of activity ensued, as the most important customers were let on first, then the elderly and the children. Amita's grandmother raced ahead, making sure their seats would be saved.

As the regular coach customers were called on board, Amita also rushed ahead, wanting to be able to spot her Grandmother quickly and sit down in peace. She found the woman easily enough, again her bright garments giving her away.

Again settling down, Amita took the window seat, so she could see as much as possible on their flight. They were almost directly on the wing, which might make the ride a bit bumpier because of the engines, but Amita didn't mind. If she got airsick, she could always take some medicine to calm herself down.

Right before liftoff, Amita had a sudden idea on a problem that had been nagging at her the past few days, and quickly retrieved her pad and pencil. Scratching out everything her mind flung at her, she only glanced out the window once or twice as the scenery fell out in a blanket below her. Very pleased with her results, she closed the pad and stuck the pencil back into one of her small bags.

While the plane was leveling out, Amita took the time for her ears to adjust, popping them occasionally when the pressure changes became too much for them to bear. The drop in pressure was very significant and noticeable at their growing height from sea-level.

The attendant coming by with drinks about half an hour into their flight, Amita turned to her grandmother to ask if she wanted anything. It appeared the woman was fast asleep, however, so Amita simply waved the attendant on. Not finding anything better to do, Amita re-opened her pad and began to just sketch whatever came to mind.

However, she soon realized she wasn't sketching just anything. It was a face. A very familiar face. Amita almost dropped her pencil in surprise when she realized – it was Charlie's face. A very good recreation as well, Amita noted. Deciding she was done drawing for the moment, she hurriedly closed the notebook again, but not before her grandmother got a very good glimpse of what was on the page. Appearances can be very deceiving, and her grandmother smiled to herself as she understood what Amita clearly did not.

'_I knew I was right.' _She then truly drifted off into a happy, dreamless sleep.

Amita, however, did not fall right to sleep. Seriously wondering what made her draw that picture, she stuffed the pad down between the seats and curled up by the window, again thinking. Soon enough, however, she too was asleep.

* * *

"_Charlie, can we talk?" Amita found herself speaking aloud, though the circumstances were odd. Could this possibly be a dream? She didn't know for sure, she didn't really have control over her body._

"_Sure, what's on your mind Amita?" He was giving her a curious look._

"_I think, I think I really like you, Charlie." Her words were quiet and slow, they stunned her. Did she really just say that?_

"_Really?"_

"_Yeah, I'm pretty sure I do."_

"_That's, um, nice." Charlie looked a bit uncomfortable, and Amita grew worried._

"_Don't you like me too?" _

"_Uh, uh, I think I do." They were suddenly very, very close to one another. _

"_This is so surreal." Amita didn't realize she had voiced this out loud._

"_It is, isn't it?" Charlie answered her._

_Amita went to nod her head, but suddenly she found her lips solidly against Charlie's, in a very needy kiss. Thoroughly surprised, she at first just stood there shocked, but finally managed to break away._

"_What was _that_?" Amita cried, gasping._

_Charlie smiled very wide, his eyes aglow. "I don't know, but I have to say I really enjoyed it."_

_Also smiling, Amita looked up at Charlie. Giving him a huge hug, she leaned her head upward to return the kiss, as quickly as possible. However, she smacked her head against a wall of some sort.

* * *

_

"OW!" Amita woke sharply, after whacking her head against the window of the airplane.

"Ma'am, are you alright?" Another attendant had been walking by.

"Oh, I'm fine, I just bumped my head." The attendant nodded and continued down the aisle.

Amita, by this point, was very confused, and muttered something akin to what she remembered clearly from the dream. "What in the world _was_ that?" Touching her lips, she felt the imagined fire of Charlie's kiss, and felt her heart thud sharply in her chest. That entire dream was so… believable. Fanning her face with her hand, either from the heat of the dream, or the heat of the sun coming through her window, Amita thought of what she should do.

'_I promised I would write to everyone anyways. Why not write Charlie a letter now, and be ahead of my plans?'_

Taking out her pad once more, she flipped through the pages, finally stopping at the sketch. Taking a sidelong glance at her grandmother once more, she quickly titled and dated the page. She then flipped it over and turned to a fresh sheet.

_Dear Charlie…_

After a few hours, a few revisions, and a few new sheets of paper, Amita scanned over the finished product. Deeming it satisfactory, she ripped it from it's binding, and folded it in an envelope. She could address and stamp it to be sent off once they got settled at her great aunt's home in India. Sealing it shut, she gave it a quick kiss, and put it back in the pocket of the writing pad.

Lunch came around, soon after Amita's grandmother awoke, and they ate their small meal in companionable silence. Feeling much more at ease about their trip, Amita fell into a deep sleep once more, completely dreamless.

Well, maybe she dreamed of a few simple things… after all, she was headed for a beautiful cultured country, full of exotic new experiences.

A smile crossed Amita's lips as she dreamt, _'To India, Away!'

* * *

_

_**Author's Note: I planned for this to be the end, but if you would like,I could write a second chapter, or another one-shot, with Charlie receiving the letter. It's all up to you, so review and let me know!**_

_**Oh, and for Kelsey: I know it didn't have as much 'hot action' as you would put it, but this was as far as I will go for right now. Hey, at least I had them dream-kiss.**_


	2. The Response

**To India, Away! Part Two - A Numb3rs FanFiction Attepmt**

**A/N: Because of the landslide of reviewers asking for another part, I give you the second chapter of the story. It was almost annoying - I had everything I wanted to say in my head, and when I wrote it, it came out rather... dull and unexciting.Especially the response...But, to make it up to you,I plan on having a third part: Amita's return from India, and that will be the big shazam. This is dedicated to Margaret.**

He was puttering back and forth between two chalkboards in the garage, seemingly quite oblivious to everything around him.

"What is _wrong_ with this equation? Everything seems to be in order, except it's not computing the way that…" Trailing off slowly, Charlie Eppes let his eyes quickly dart over the dusty white symbols covering the green of the boards pinned to the walls.

"AHA! It's the natural log, not the common log – how could I miss something so simple?" Furiously erasing a small part of the problem, he scratched _log(e)17x_in the place of what was previously there. (A/N: I actually don't know if this is a plausible part of any math equation, I'm just now learning logarithms in class.)

"Maybe you missed it because you've been in here for hours, slaving away like a madman on a mission." A soft low voice nearly had Charlie jump out of his skin – or at least a few inches off the floor. As the chalk rolled across the cement below, Charlie grasped his chest and took a deep breath.

"Dad – cripes, don't do that! I didn't even hear you getting close. And I am on a mission, of sorts… I'm preparing for an extra discourse I'm giving this coming Monday." Charlie said, a bit defensively.

"You _wouldn't_ hear me; your head is so far into the problem. Now you've got another new discourse? They're going to run you too thin at CalSci if they're not careful. I brought you a sandwich, its way past lunch. I also brought you the mail." Alan placed the plate and the small packet of letters on a nearby table.

"Thanks, just what I need are more bills." Charlie laughed sardonically as he walked over to the table in the corner and plopped into one of the chairs.

"Hey, you're the one who decided you wanted to buy this old place." Alan, too, settled into an old rickety chair.

"You're the one who was insane enough to put it up on the market. I practically had no choice but to – hey, what's this?" Charlie broke of his rejoinder as he pulled one letter in particular out of the pile, looking curiously at the return address scribbled in the top-left corner.

"Dad, look at where this is from." Charlie passed the letter off to his father.

Pulling out his glasses, Alan glanced at the envelope. It looked just as any other letter should, but as his eyes adjusted to the light and the words grew clearer, he understood Charlie's reaction to it. "Wow Charlie… this is from _Delhi, India_. That's the capital."

"Yeah, I know." Charlie's foot started tapping at the floor impatiently, and he pondered the letter quite energetically.

"You know what this means then, of course."

"Amita. She's gotten to her family's house. And she's decided to write to us." Charlie continued to think… why Amita would write to their family so soon, Charlie didn't know. Was India not what she expected it to be? She can't have been there too long; she arrived a couple of days ago, and she called to let somebody know. Charlie thought she sounded a bit odd over the phone, but he assumed it was because she was tired from the flight and of the odd time she had called (he was aroused from his sleep at quite the ungodly hour).

"Uh, Charlie, she didn't write to us. She wrote to _you._ Just you. Look at the address again." Alan passed the letter back, while Charlie took it gently in his hands, flipping it over and passing his index finger under the words as he read it.

_Charlie Eppes_ was written in Amita's flowing handwriting across the first line. It then continued throughout the rest of the address, ending in his area code. It didn't say anything about _Charlie and Alan_, or _The Eppes Family_. Just Charlie. He found this very odd.

"Huh – that's weird, isn't it?"

Alan mumbled something and got up, stretching.

"What was that?" Charlie asked.

"I dunno Charlie; I'm just going to go back in the house so you can read your letter in peace. Tell me if Amita says hi or anything important." He seemed almost miffed he didn't get a share in the letter from across the world, yet almost, could one think it, pleased? He then made his way out of the garage and back towards the house.

Charlie, a bit too befuddled with his father's response, rose from the table as well, splitting the lip of the envelope open. Removing the letter, which seemed to be a couple of pages thick, he saw a small medallion fall out and caught it before it could hit the floor. Hanging from a thin golden chain, it was a round disk, with an elephant, trunk aloft, imprinted into the metal. "That was nice of her to send."

Unfolding the paper, he made his way out to the backyard, stepping lightly over the stone walkway and making his way for the koi pond, where the light was shining brightly and he could read the letter properly. Dropping unceremoniously to the grassy earth below him, Charlie dipped his fingers into the water, the chill sending a shiver down his spine, while one of the curious fish to a nibble at one of his fingertips. Laughing, he shook off the odd feeling and laid back, beginning to read what Amita had sent him.

_Dear Charlie,_

_I know this is going to sound stupid, but I already miss home, especially all the people. Guess where I am? You probably won't believe me, but it's just the first plane. We've only just taken off from the airport about, hm… less than an hour ago? Los Angeles already seems thousands of miles away to me. This could just be due to the fact that I'm not really a lover of flight, or the fact that Grandmother's snores aren't the most companionable sound (but don't tell her I said that!). Hopefully I'll be able to fall asleep soon enough and just make my trip seem quicker than it really is. I do, however, have the horrible knowledge that I will be extremely jetlagged whether I can fall asleep or not, which doesn't help me, as I was already tired as could be when I awoke this morning._

_But you probably don't care at all about that, do you? I must sound rather stupid, yet it appears to me I cannot help but be this way, as I have very little else to tell you as of yet. However, I can tell you that I truly am looking forward to this trip, though I deeply miss you. And, erm, everyone else, of course._

_Oh, I might as well get on and say it. There really isn't anything else stopping me except my own self. I have to say, my self control is practically fit to burst any moment. I might look controlled, but it's a façade, I'll tell you that much._

_Charlie, I have a confession to make. I can't keep this bottled up inside anymore. It's going to sound ludicrously idiotic for me to tell you this in a letter, but I've sworn to myself I'd be honest, and that's a promise I intend to keep._

_I know, as well as you do, that we are anything but normal. We are peers, we are young, we are students, we are teachers (you obviously more of a teacher than I), and we are people striving for knowledge. We are more than that though, we are dedicated friends. And as friends, we have a complex relationship built upon hundreds of practically undeterminable variables that have been changed time and time again. But, as people, we have evolved, and this evolution has sparked a change in us. Charlie… I think maybe, it changed our friendship._

_Changed it for the better, I have to hope. But sometimes I'm not sure. We've certainly had our share of harmless encounters; certainly we have both noticed a bit of shameless flirting or jest from the other – at least, I thought I had noticed it. However, sometimes I get confused about what's going on, like our, let me be blunt, disastrous dinner all that while ago. It sort of left me doubting whether we had evolved as far as I had thought._

_I can always miscalculate things, make a mistake. And while I can admit to making a mistake, I don't think I made a mistake when I stepped over the line. I'm assuming you remember what I did back in your office a few weeks ago. That kiss I gave you then was no mistake, and I'm not going to claim I don't know what came over me, or that it just happened out of the blue, because I don't think it did. And I promised myself I'd be honest about all of this._

_Charlie, I've given this a lot of thought, and well, I think I almost had a right to give you that kiss. It might have been out of your comfort zone, and it might have startled you – heaven knows your face had quite the shocked expression afterwards. I might say I know it was no mistake, but that still doesn't mean I know exactly why, because I really don't. I could say it was because you gave me excellent advice about what I should do about Santi and what I should do about my confusion (which you undoubtedly did), but I don't think that was the whole reason why. I think it was something deeper than that._

_I would hate to put anything into this letter that might sound foolish, unconcerned, rash or even borderline risqué_ (A/N: thank you reennie5 for this particular adjective…) _but Charlie, to put it as bluntly as I possibly can: I think we might have a connection, moreover, a relationship, that just might be gradually slipping into romance. I'm going to just out and out say it, because I can't just keep being Amita the student, Amita the consultant, Amita the friend. Honestly? I'm Amita, the one who just wants to tell you that… I like you Charlie._

_No, I didn't write this letter to tell you how much I missed "everyone". No, I didn't write this letter because I was already homesick. No, I didn't even write this letter because Grandma's snoring was keeping me awake. I did it because I missed someone, because I was slightly airsick, and because Grandma's snoring is just a little grating on one's nerves. I did it because I knew that eventually everything would come out. And sometimes, it's easier to write it all down then say it out loud. You know it's easier to write an equation than to explain it. You know it's easier to solve something in your head than talk it out. I wrote this letter because I couldn't keep lying to myself; I needed solid proof I could tell the truth. I really don't know if I'll send this once I Delhi. I almost doubt myself to._

_Charlie, this isn't a love letter, this isn't some random proclamation of my undying devotion to you. It's some paper, with my words, that just wants to say that I feel something towards you. And it's not bad, but it's certainly been bugging me a lot lately. I don't want to keep feeling this if you don't feel it too. I don't want to keep feeling this if I know, deep down inside, you probably haven't even read this far into the letter and you've crumpled it up and thrown it away. I don't want to keep feeling this, if the moment I get back to California you're going to turn away from me in disgust. I don't want to keep feeling this if you're going to just take this and show Don and Alan and Larry and have a good laugh at my expense (please, please, if anything – don't do that. I'll have to murder you, and you're brother works in the FBI.)_

_And suddenly I've realized exactly how corny I sound. I've realized exactly how vulnerable I am now that I've written this. And I might just take all this paper and rip it up into shreds, toss it in a garbage can, never again to see the light of day. Yet somehow I doubt myself, again. Now that I've went and been honest to myself, don't I have the obligation to be true to you as well?_

_So here's the deal – soon enough I'll find myself thousands of miles away, across an ocean, across continents, in a place where I don't speak the language, don't know the customs, and barely know my own family. I'll go to a Post Office, buy a large number of stamps, and mark my Great Aunt's house as the address on the label, in case it gets lost in the mail. I'll hope beyond reasonable hope that somehow my letter gets "accidentally" destroyed, yet somewhere in the back of my mind I know I would hate if it did. I'll then relax and enjoy my stay, putting all thoughts of this letter far, far away. If I get no response, I'll never have to know if you got it or not until I get back. If I do get a response, I can only hope it is not as long winded as this, because if you're hand is anything like mine, it would be aching by this point._

_I have found I can't really write my more, seeing as yes, my hand is aching, the sun is really bright up here, and it's just about time for a rather long nap. I won't tell you exactly how many times I crumpled up this letter, but let's just say it's gone through several revisions so far. (And I daresay the actual number would make you laugh.)_

_Sincerely,_

_Amita_

_PS. When I got here, I found this really beautiful elephant charm, which supposedly means good luck, at a little vendor shop. I figured, who knows? I might need some luck between now and then – but then I thought, what about Charlie? What if he has a case to work on? I suspect you might need it more than me, if something really bad comes through town._

Charlie sat up, his body a bit fidgety. Was he to believe everything he had just read? Was Amita really being as honest as she said? Standing up, Charlie paced back and forth in front of the koi pond, eyes darting over a line here, a line there, soaking up the meaning.

Not knowing what else to do, Charlie went back into the garage, seeking the solace the cooler, dimmer room offered to him. Sitting back at the table where he had first found the letter, shuffled in with all the other mail which still was splayed out across the solid surface, he found a sheet of paper and nervously wrote a reply.

_Amita –_

_Thanks a lot for the elephant pendant. It does bring luck, of a curious kind. As your advice states, I won't make this letter as rambling as yours, but I have to say, I'll be looking forward to when you get home. "We" miss you too._

Charlie sealed the letter in an envelope and wrote a foreign address on the label, with Amtia's name instead of her Great Aunt's. He then settled back in the chair, very, very confused.

The only realcognativeresponse that came to his head, that made any sense at all, was that maybe, just maybe – _Amita was right_.

Charlie walked into the house, stopping in the kitchen when he bumped into Alan. Flustered, Charlie said the first thing that came to his mind, both letters still tight in his grasp. He had already put the medallion in his pocket.

"Amita had a lot to say – she's excited about India and misses everyone. Basically, she says hi, and she'll be back soon."


End file.
